


House of Snakes: Book 1

by ArcReactorsandDragons



Series: House of Snakes [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Child Abuse, F/F, F/M, Gen, Good Slytherins, M/M, Manipulative Dumbledore, Mentor Severus Snape, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POC Harry Potter, POC Hermionie Granger, Parseltongue, Slytherin Harry, Slytherin Harry Potter, Smart Harry, The Potters Are Indian, i really love all those head canons, on tumblr that I'm finding and they're making me cry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 08:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11847357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcReactorsandDragons/pseuds/ArcReactorsandDragons
Summary: Hufflepuff values: hard work, dedication, patience, loyalty, and fair playGryffindor values:  bravery, daring, nerve, and chivalryRavenclaw values:  intelligence, knowledge, and witSlytherin values: ambition, cunning and resourcefulnessHarry had hardly ever experienced any, patience or fair play, but plenty of hardwork. He has had to use plenty daring but never chilvary, what was the point? He had always used intelligence, and enjoying increasing his knowledge of the world around him, but wit ever came into play. Ambition though? Cunning and resourcefulness? They all helped him survive in a world of abuse from the Durselys.In a world where Harry recieves no biased explanation of the Houses, where he just wants home, somewhere he can escape to, which House will he choose.How will this decision affect the rest of his life. Which friends will he choose and which enemies will he make.How different will this story goTL:DRHarry's feels more suited to Slytherin, this will affect his life immensly, but will it be for the better? (Yes, yes it will)





	1. In Which He Starts Talking To Snakes

**Author's Note:**

> this will end up as Drarry, but not at least 2nd or 3rd year
> 
> comments and kudos are appreciated, please enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: CHILD ABUSE could be triggering. Read at own risk

There was once a baby boy called Harry James Potter, born to James Fleamont Potter and Lily Potter (nee Evans). His godfather was Sirius Orion Black, who was dating a Mr Remus John Lupin. (Who was also unfortunately a werewolf. However that little fact will not be relevant for another couple books.) 

They were all in school together, they stumbled through their adolescence together. They jumped for joy when Peter first got kissed, (he was he first of them) or when James won his first Quidditch match, when they became animagus for their best friend, when Remus and Sirius _finally_ got together. They held eachother in comfort when Sirius received his first Howler for not fitting in with his families' ideals, when they found out Remus was a werewolf, when Sirius ran away from home. They also made mistakes together. Very grave mistakes which would influence not just their lives, but the end of them

But anyway, back to Harry. He was born on the 31st of July 1990, at a healthy weight of 3.5 kg, to parents who loved him very, _very_ dearly. They lived in Godric's Hollow, in a modest sized, two-story house, filled with both muggle and wizarding items. His godfather, and his boyfriend would often visit baby Harry, and though in the midst of a war, they lived happily as a family could live, loving every moment of time with each other. 

But that was then, and love of any kind doesn't last long in a war. 

The future was foretold by a skittish seer and brought to the Dark Lord by one of his most trusted servants.

Prophesised to be the Dark Lord's demise, Voldemort wreaked vengeance upon the happy family for daring to have borne Harry, on that fateful Halloween night.

Three bodies dead next to a crying baby. 

The beloved godfather arrested in the street for supposedly killing thirteen muggles and one Peter Pettigrew

His boyfriend, a werewolf, his best friend's dead, betrayed by the man he once loved.

And Harry Potter. The boy who defeated Voldemort. The Boy-Who-Lived.

Once with everything and now with nothing but a blanket and a curse scar to his name, Harry was placed on his relatives doorstep by a powerful man with the façade of senile old man and a twinkle in his eye. 

The future was set.

* * *

 

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Now, Harry waited patiently as his Aunt Petunia screamed at him and banging on his cupboard door, unlocking the door as she did so, demanding he make breakfast.

He'd actually been awake for the past hour trying to unlock the door, but not by just picking it – held learnt to do that 4 years ago- no, but with his _mind_. It had been when he'd been beaten particular viciously for accidentally dropping a plate, and then thrown into the cupboard. That night, Harry had desperately needed some water, as usual Vernon had locked the door and was too weak to pick the lock, then when he had feverishly wished for it to be unlocked, he had heard the telltale click of the door unlocking, so Harry had crept out gingerly to get some water, and when he got back to the closet under the stairs, he fallen unconscious and the door had once again been locked.

Harry uncrossed his legs and opened the door, trying to ignore the mild headache he was getting, he stretched lightly. He silently stepped into the kitchen, and stared in dismay at the table in front of the lounge- it was filled with Dudley's presents, sitting in small piles across the floor, piling up almost as high as the windows. How could he of forgotten it was Dudley's birthday? Today was surely going to be horrible, with Dudley undoubtedly complaining he didn't have enough presents, and Harry getting the brunt of his anger. And of course, Harry would be the one to make his birthday meals, even though he wouldn't even get to taste any of the food. Though hopefully while Dudley was doing his birthday activities, Harry would be able to stay as Mrs Figgs. Sure the entire house smelt like boiled cabbages and she had an abundance of cats that were far too attention seeking, but it was still a vast improvement to the Dursley residence.

As he was starting to prepare breakfast for the Durselys, Petunia started snapping orders at him, "You've got to make extra bacon, and not a single piece can be burnt, more scrambled eggs as well, and get started on the coffee. Got it?”

Harry started to do everything she said, falling into the familiar rhythm of the mind numbing activity. He'd just finished putting everything on the plates and pouting the coffee, when his Uncle Vernon walked in.

Immediately there was the comment that usually consisted of something like, "Boy! Where's my breakfast, there had better be a lot of it! If it's burnt you know exactly what'll happen".

And as usual he was insulted, not from the threat or even the dehumanising “boy”, but the insult to his cooking. Really, he hadn't burnt anything since he was 5 years old, yet almost 6 years later, Vernon still insisted.

He set out the plate in front of his Uncle, he privately thinking that he could do with a lot less food. Vernon was a large, overweight man with a large moustache and what little hair he had left on his head which was straw blond, and when he started shouted his face turned a rather horrid puce colour which made him look like an angry walrus, now though, he just looked like a walrus. However, Petunia was the complete opposite, she was thin with a horse like face, brown hair that was usually piled on top of her head, and a tendency to spy on the neighbours. Dudley had barrelled in when Harry had finished setting out the table, launching immediately towards the pile of presents. Harry was sure despite the fact that Dudley was facing away from him, that his face would be screwed up in concentration, trying to count the trove in front of him.

Dudley finally looked up, whipping around to stare at his parents, eating at the breakfast table "Thirty-six? Only thirty-six presents?! Last year I had thirty-nine!"

"No, Diddykins, there's still Aunt Marge's behind the table!" Petunia said, trying to console him, " _and_ we'll get you another two presents for you at the zoo! How about that, Pumpkin".

"So that... that'll be...", his face screwed up as he tried to think.

"Thirty- nine, Dudley", Petunia said.

He sat down heavily at the table and started shovelling food into his mouth, "Okay then".

Just then the phone rang, and Petunia hurried out to answer it. Her voice rising in the hall, she then she called out, a mildly panicky tone to her voice, “Vernon, it's Mrs Figg on the phone”.

As he stood up and left the kitchen he glared darkly at Harry, and told him in a short tone that he could eat his toast now, and that he better not make a mess.

So, Harry picked up his end-of-the-loaf piece of toast, with no jam or even butter on it, and ate it over the sink, where he washed away the minimal amount of crumbs. Out in the hall, his Uncle's and Aunt's voices started to rise even louder, until they both walked into the kitchen looking disgruntled.

“Mrs Figg has broken her leg”, said Petunia, glaring at Harry as if it were somehow his fault, “So, me and your Uncle have decided it would be better if you accompanied us to the zoo. You'd better thank your Uncle for letting you come”. The unspoken _instead of staying locked in your cupboard_ rang in his ears.

Inside, Harry's heart soared; he'd never been to a zoo, but of course he knew better than to show it, "Yes Uncle, thank you Uncle".

The bell rang then, and both Petunia and Dudley hurried out to answer the door, as it was most likely going to be Piers, one of Dudleys best friends who was going with them to the zoo.

As soon as the other two left the room, Vernon advanced on Harry, a hand gripping his arm hard enough to leave bruises (Vernon didn't like threatening him with them nearby, they were far too _innocent_. Harry almost snorted at the idea).

“You make _one_ little disturbance... _one_ sign of you ruining this for Dudley... _one_ sign of your _freakishness_ and you wont be able to move for a week. Got it, Boy?”

His chunky fingers squeezed his arm, and Harry had no doubt that what he said was true, and that there would be finger shaped bruises on his arm within the hour.

But neither the threat nor the violence were uncommon, so Harry nodded his affirmation and went to his cupboard to put on his least ratty t-shirt. After all, it wasn't everyday a young man finally got to have a good day.

* * *

Half an hour later they had arrived at zoo, after such a _pleasant_ car ride. Harry, being the smallest, had to sit in the middle seat, between Piers and Dudley, who in recent years had made it their personal goal to make Harry's life a person Hell whenever possible. This just so happened to be one of the times when it was possible. They had spent the entire journey pinching and poking him, insulting him and sometimes even his parents, all the while Harry just sat perfectly still, staring out the wind-shield, knowing that if he even tried to retaliate, there would be some dire consequences.

Finally though, they had arrived, and the sky for once was a sunny blue, puffy white clouds drifting on the slight breeze and the first thing that happened as Harry got out of the car was Piers tripping him up so he fell on the gravel floor. He was sure that today was going to be good despite it.

As if to prove his thoughts, he was even able to have a lemon ice lolly. Of course that was only because the barista had stared suspiciously at Vernon as Dudley and Piers received a large three scoop ice cream with nuts and chocolate sauce to top, while Harry wasn't even offered. But when you lived a life like Harry's it was best to see the cup as half full, not half empty.

As they walked around Dudley and Piers kicked up a fuss wherever they went, knocking over a couple of people (mainly Harry), banging and rattling enclosures, and shouting and screaming like a toddlers when the animals ignored. His Uncle and Aunt followed the pair as they caused chaos, sending daring looks at the zookeepers, or apologising to anyone they had knocked over, (except Harry, who they straight up ignored).

By now, they had nearly gone around the entire zoo, where they had encountered a grouchy tiger who had roared terribly when Dudley had shouted at it for being boring, a disgruntled lemur who Dudley had managed to poke, and two zookeepers who told them they had to quieten down or they were to leave. Of course, at that they had all nodded respectfully and then, if possible were louder than before.

Now they had just entered the Reptile Room. Harry found this place refreshing, void of too may people, it was quieter than outside, and out of the sun, where he was boiling in his oversized jumper. As he had done throughout the zoo, he acted as if he wasn't part of the group, staying several paces behind them and studying the animals at his own pace. He made a game of it, trying to find the animals in the Reptile Room after reading their description. It was actually quite fun, a way to forget about that he was here with the Dudley's He looked up after finding a particularly camouflaged Mountain Adder, to find that Dudley and Piers were banging loudly at the glass of a snake enclosure. When the snake has given no reaction, just eyeing the two bay-fully and falling back asleep, the two moved on complaining loudly. After making sure that the two were thoroughly occupied with bothering a small looking crocodile, Harry quickly approached the glass, laying a hand soothingly on the glass. Looking at the bronze placard next to the glass enclosure, he saw that it was a Boa Constricta, raised captivity, taken from parents. He could relate.

"Sorry for those two, they're horrible." He murmured gently, sighing sorrowfully he continued, "It must be bad enough in there, cramped and tiny, without them two disturbing you." 

The snake tilted its head at him, and opened one eye. " _Yesss, human. You have no_ idea _how stresssful it is in here."_

Harry almost jumped back in surprise, did that snake just _talk_ to him!? "Wha- what? Was that you I was hearing?" And was it him or did his voice sound... strange.

The snake jolted and shot up, so its face was directly in front of his, " _A Sspeaker! My mother told me about your kind, about how her grandmother knew a boy who could ssspeak as wellll..._ " The snake trailed off, its tongue flicked in and out, and Harry wondered if it could smell him through the glass. " _How curiousss..._ "

"What? How can I understand you? A speaker?" His voice definitely sounded different.

"Whoa! Mum, Dad! Come look at what this snake is doing", Dudley shouted, shoving Harry away onto the floor. He watched as Dudley and Piers pressed their ugly faces against the glass, making faces at it. On the floor, Harry was sure that he had at least twisted his wrist; it hadn't healed properly from when Vernon had last broken it. Watching them, Harry felt a sudden course of anger filling him up, blinding him. He wanted something to happen to Dudley, for once he was actually having fun and then he _ruined_ it. He wanted something _bad_   to happen, something-

There was a scream and the world fell into focus. Dudley had toppled into the enclosure, falling into the shallow pool with a small _splash!_ The glass had disappeared, and Piers was wheeling back with a howl of horror. The snake was now slithering out over the banister, uncoiling carefully, it lifted its head and tasted the air. Harry hadn't realised how huge the snake was, and as it moved smoothly towards him, he felt a flash of fear, _what if it ate him?_  

The fear was short lived when the snake paused for a moment beside him and winked, " _Thank youu. I sshaall remember you, Sspeakerrr",_ before it continued on its way, slipping through crowds screaming families. The he realised that he had something else to fear. Vernon kept sending him filthy looks, and his face was getting redder and redder. The zookeepers had calmed the Durselys and Piers, apologising profusely, obviously confused by what had happened (and by the looks of things, rather amused that the screaming boy had got what he deserved. They had given them three free things from the gift shop, and a free pass for the rest of the year, and when Petunia deemed that that wasn't enough for poor, _poor trauma her Diddykins had went through,_ a full refund as well. Harry was terrified of what was coming.

* * *

While Dudley and Piers were chatting excitedly towards one another, saying how cool this story was going to sound back at school, Petunia and Vernon were quite the opposite. Harry had quietly slipped in the back seat, trying to shrink in on himself, or possibly melt into the seat, Dudley and Piers continued talking loudly, apparently oblivious to the rising tension increasing in the car. His Uncle and Aunt conferred quietly between themselves. Petunia seemed angry but worried and looked as if she was trying to calm her husband down, Vernon though, seemed absolutely furious and kept swatting Petunia hands off him when she tried to contain him. After they dropped Piers back at home, it was deadly silent, you could have heard a pin drop. Even Dudley was quiet now that Piers was gone, and looked as if he couldn't decide whether to be worried about the fury that was almost tangible in the air, or delighted that Harry was in trouble.

 Then, they arrived back at 4 Privet Drive. Petunia ushered Dudley out the car and into the house, all the while sending regretting glance back at the car. Harry didn't dare move when he realised Vernon had stayed where he was. Vernon exploded.

"What was that _boy_!" He spat, twisting around to glare at Harry." We know you, don't even  _try_ to deny it! How did you do it you freak! You know what I said don't you? I said one disturbance, and you won't be able to move for a week, and you went out of your way to mess things up. It's your fault what's about to happen. If you were just _good for once_ , it all would of been fine, you may even have gotten dinner tonight. _Now though..._  It was _meant_ to be a _perfect_ day, but as usual you messed it up, you _freak"_ , and on and on did Vernon thunder, his voice rising and rising, until Harry had enough and tried to speak.

"But, _Sir_ ," it was always better to refer to him as sir in these situations, it was better not to call him Uncle and allow him to remember he was actually related to him, "It wasn't me, I had nothing to do with it, it was like-like-"

"Like _what,_ freak. Spit it out, _boy_."

"Like, magic..." he finished weakly. That had been the wrong thing to say. He had ignored his own first rule of living with the Durselys. Never, under any circumstances utter a word about magic or the fantastical, it just made the beatings worse

His Uncles face contorted in that moment, turning redder than he thought was possible, "Magic! Magic! Magic doesn't exist you utter _freak"_

Vernon struggled out the car and almost ripped Harry's door off, seizing him by the collar, he dragged Harry out of the car and slammed the door shut. Harry let. It was easier to just let it happen. To go limp, it hurt less that way if he didn't try to anticipate the blows. When they got in the house then, Vernon flung him into the door of his cupboard. His head hit with a loud _bang!_ He probably had a concussion now. That was dangerous, but not unusual. He could deal with that, as long as he didn't fall asleep. _But it would be so easy to,_ a voice whispered in his mind, _to fall unconscious and not feel a thing._ But he deserved it, another voice whispered, as fists rained upon his back and a ring split his lip. As a boot slammed into his ribs and his shoulder. As pain fired through every nerve in his body, and he _knew_ from experience that he was gonna recover very easy from this. Then the beating paused and Harry let out a sigh of relief. Maybe it was over. But he knew better. A rough hand turned him over so he was slumped forward on his stomach and a new fiery rained on his back. It was familiar, and he knew his Uncle was using the black belt he was so fond of, the one with the huge silver buckle that left deep welts. His mind filled with agony, there was nothing else he could focus or think of. Harry didn't cry though, he never cried in front of people, sometimes along in his cupboard on those lonely nights of his birthday, but never in front of his relatives. That would just made him weak. He couldn't stop the little yelps of agony or chocked cry's of pain.

It was a relief when he slipped into comforting blackness he was so familiar with. It slipped his arms around him and begged him to stay in its dark depths, to never feel pain, or experience the scorn of his Uncle and Aunt. For a moment he willed it, and all feeling stopped as he fell into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> commensy and Kudos are appreciated stay tuned I will post sooner or later


	2. In Which Harry Is Confused The Professors Are Introduced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OMH JUT LET ME SCREAM INTO THE ABYSS omg i already have kudos and i only published this a few hours ago, you have no idea how excited i am to get that, i literally started flailing, especially when i saw the comment, Thank you all!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never realised how much effort fic writers put into things like this? especially on things where its an AU on Harry Potter if you get me? i have such a new respect for all of you, also i have not deleted a chapter cause i know my chapters are v short  
> **WARNING: MENTIONS OF CHILD ABUSE**

Harry woke up, blinking, the world blurry still without his glasses, staying perfectly still, as he knew if he moved even slightly, pain would lance through his body. Even now his entire body ached from every breathe, and as he inhaled deeply, he almost threwup and the smell of his surroundings. It was the the smell of old blood paired with urine and faeces.

Breathing shallowly, he stayed in the fetal position for over 10 minutes, before his body started twitching from being in the same position for so long. Harry sat up slowly, groaning and swallowing down a yelp of pain. He reached out for his glasses, whimpering slightly as he put them on his face. The world came into focus, and looked around in the meagre light. Wrinkling his nose at the ground in front of him- the source of the disgusting smell. Carefully, Harry drew his top over his head, this time not being able to contain the cry of agony, as every cell seemed to be set on fire. He sat that for a moment panting, waiting for the pain to subside. He looked down at his body, surveying the damage done to his torso.

Any of the open wounds seemed to hace closed up and scarred over, and the welts showed up red and angry against his unusually clammy skin. Blood seemed to crust his entire abdomen, and he winced, hissing in pain when he prodded one of the welts. The sound of the stairs creaking startled him and he jumped, almost hitting his head on the low roof of his cupboard. Harry's head followed the noise, staring fearfully as the footsteps stopped infront of his door.

Light flooded his little room as the door creaked open, displaying the disgusting enviroment Harry was in. The light nearly blinded Harry, but as his vision cleared, he saw the relieved face of his Aut Petunia.

"Good, you're awake." She said tightly, sounding actually worried for once, "you can go shower while I clean up your room, you've been here for a while, and," her voice quieted down to a whisper, "I'm afraid Vernon did go rather.... crazy this time. Now go shower."F

* * *

 Harry was ushered up the stairs, each step agony. Usually, he would have felt exposed limping up the stairs, his bleed back bared, and the skin that the Dursleys hated on show, but right now he just felt exhausted and in pain. Shuffling into the bathroom, he winced as they door was shut harshly behind him. He just stood there for a minute, revelling in the near silence and listening to Petunia's retreating footsteps, where she would undoubtedly start cleaning his 'room'. Slowly, he limped up the the sink. He stood infront of the mirror, leaning heavily on the skin to support, examining his torso and his face shamefully. He _knew_ other children couldn't count each and everyone of their ribs. _Knew_ other children didn't have to be wary in their own homes. _Home_ , he thought scornfully, this wasn't his home. A home wasn't were he had to nurse wounds inflicted by a belt. It wasn't where he got black eyes or split lips from his Uncle's wedding ring.

 _No_ , he thought decidedly, _this wasn't his home. But soon,_ Harry promised himself, he could feel it.

With that in mind, Harry retrievd his little washbag from under the sink. It was filled with necessaties like a small first aid kit, a toothbrush and toothpaste along with travel shampoo and conditioner and showergel. The last three items were because the Dursleys felt that if Harry used the same shower items as them, they'd catch a disease off him, or suddenly become as worthless him. Though conditioner was only because they were trying to tame his curly hair, which stuck up all over the place, and Petunia called 'a rats nest'.

Quickly, he undressed, shivering as his bare feet felt the freezing bathroom tiles. Taking his wash thimns into the shower, he turned turned on the shower. As usual he didn't check the temperature, the Dursley's usually showered first using all the hot water or Petunia had the hot water turned off, because he 'didn't deserve it'. So, when a stream of warm water his trembling chest, he was pleasently suprised. Turning around, he hissed as the water stung the welts, looking down, he saw the water turn red and brown before running down the drain. Resting his head on the tiles, he closed his eyes and let the warm water clean him for a couple of seconds, before he mustered up the energy to use the showergel. Washing himself gingerly, he let the evidence of the past night or so literally wash away. Realising he was probably taking to long, he quickly washed and conditioned his hair. Stepping out the shower, he patted himself down with the old but clean looking towel hanging on the railing. He took care of a few other necasseties (toilets, teeth), and then opened up the first aid kit. Smearing cream on any injuries he could reach, he also downed a couple of paracetamol dry, though they barely did a thing.

He opened up the bathroom door, towel around his waist and spotted a pile of clothes on the floor. Soon, he exited the bathroom and walked down the stairs as smoothly as possible. He felt strangly refreshed in his cousins old hand-me-downs. They might have been old and a bit stained or ripped in places, and he had to roll up his jumpers and jeans at the cuffs several times. but they were clean and soft, and covered up as much of his body as possible.

He walked past his cupboard, which smelt strongly of ammonia, and into the kitchen where she sat him down with a plate of buttered toast and a glass of milk. Noticing the clock, he realised it was only 6:45, which meant Vernon and Dudley would be up soon.

"When you've finished that, you can start making breakfast for everyone. And if you have any sense, do _not_  provoke, Vernon", Petunia told him roughly, but she sounded as if she regretted something.

So he once again settled into the routine of breakfast, pain dulling slightly and he fell into rythm. In record time he had breakfast laid out the table, a pot of coffee on the table with a carton of juice. Petunia sent him a nod of thanks, and when Vernon and Dudley sat down at the table, she told Harry that although today was the last day of school, he would not be attending, to which he sent a nod of acknowledgement. Throughout breakfast, it was totally silent, despite the fact that Harry stood by the counter in case they needed more bacon or the like, his Uncle and cousin completely ignored him. Which he was completely thankful for, he didn't think he would be able to stand Vernon even look at him in that moment.

With the only sound the clinking of cutlery against plates, the sound of the mail flap opening and the mail being delivered was a welcome relief. With a quiet "I'll get it", he slid out of the kitchen, taking the chance to stretch and wince at the pain of his wounds without anyone watching.

He picked up the mail sifting through it, taking note of the bills and the acceptance letter for Dudley going to Smeltings, before stopping dead at the letter adressed to him.

 

> _Mr H. Potter_
> 
> _The Cupboard under the Stairs_
> 
> _4 Privit Drive_
> 
> _Little Whinging_
> 
> _Surrey_

Harry read the words, and with trembling fingers turned it around, taking in the purple wax emblem, with a badger, a raven, a snake and a lion surrounding a large H, stamped in it. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, he slid the letter through the crack in the door to his cupboard, knowing there was no way his uncle would allow him to read it. He walked back into the kitchen, gave the letters to his uncle, and watched as they celebrated Dudleys acceptance, whishing for his Uncle and Cousin to leave for work and school, so he could just read his letter already.

* * *

Harry sat in his Cupboard, thinking over the contents of his letter, while he waiting for his Aunt to get back from dropping Dudley off at school. He had already washed the dishes and wiped down the kitchen surfaces and then tidied up his cupboard, Petunia had left it reeking of disinfectant. Harry would have already gone outside and started on his chores in the garden, but he knew if he went outside without permission, even if it was to do work, Petunia wouldn't let him out to the library as punishment. So, as it as was he was sat cross legged staring at the seemingly insignificant piece of paper in his hand. Unbeknownst to him, he as also locking and unlocking his cupboard which was propped open beside him. Harry's head was swirling with questions, but did his Aunt know the answers?

He was started out of his thinking at the front door opening. Petunia stalked by, barely passing Harry a glance, into the kitchen where he heard the kettle boil. Five minutes later, he shuffled into the kitchen. He gripped his letter so tight it almost crumpled in his hand, he smoothed the creases out, feeling the thick parchment under his fingers, only interrupted by scratch like marks, which he knew to be green ink. Petunia looked up ready to reprimand him as he climbed into the seat opposite his Aunt.

Petunia was sitting at the coffee table, the newspaper on the table and a cup of tea in her hand. As she looked up to tell Harry off, he slid the letter over to her, a little fearfully. Her faced paled a little at the sight of the paper.But her face paled even further as she actually read the letter. Harry had already memorized the letter and imagined reading it as Petunia did.

 

> _HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_
> 
> _Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_
> 
> _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_
> 
> _Dear Mr Potter,_
> 
> _We are pleased to inform you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necassary books and equipment._
> 
> _Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._
> 
> _Yours sincerely,_
> 
> _Minerva McGonagall, Deptuty Headmistress_

His Aunt continued staring at the paper, long past she had read it, and it was only after the fifth time Harry called her, did she snap out her reverie.

"Aunt Petunia, What is Hogwarts? Why have a never heard if it", Harry's voice dropped to a whisper asking the next the question, as though he were afraid, " Is magic real?"

Petunia sighed heavily, dragging her hand down her face, and for a moment, she had aged thousands of years. Then she answered, back to her usual tight self, spitting out the words as if they were posion., "Hogwarts... is a _special_ place, a school, for very _special_ children. For children with _magic._ "

"It's real," Harry whispered, eyes lighting up, "I'm not a freak, I'm not un-natural. I have magic. I'm a wizard."

He quickly schooled his features into one of calmness, knowing that if he showed how much he wanted to go to this "Hogwarts", his Uncle and Aunt would take great delight in telling Harry he couldn't go. "The letter said it was a boarding school, didn't it. That means I can stay there all year round. I only would need to come back for the summer." He crossed his fingers, he was long past believing in those things. But if there ever was a time for believing, this was it.

Petunia stared at the young boy infront of her, thinking it over. Looking at the boy infront of her, she saw him. Actually looked at him. She saw the way his eyes flashed with fleeting hope. Those green, green eyes. Her sisters eyes. The dark blue stain upon the skin he inherited from his father, the bruise barely visible along his cheekbone, where the skin stretched tightly across his face. A telltale sign of his... malnourishment and their punishments. His hair curling messily in a way that could never be tamed, hiding the scar she knew would be there, spreading with raised red lines across his forehead. And Lily's eyes. She couldn't bear to look at them, oh what could she do. 

If she sent him to that school, what would he become? More like Lily? More freakish than he already was? But then, what would happen if he didn't go? She remembered the warning one of the Professors had said when she had come to help Lily adjust to the news. McCognal? No, McGonagall. She had said, if Lily didn't go, she wouldn't be able to learn how to control her magic. That the accidental outbursts would become even stronger. Would that happen to Harry? What would the neighbours think? And on the plus side, if Harry went to that place, they wouldn't have to see him for most of the year. Sure, they would lose someone doing the housework, but they could always hire a maid service. Yes, that's what they would do. 

 With out saying a word, Petunia stalked over to window and opened it out wide, letting out a piercing whistle.

At Harry's confused glance, his Aunt told him, "we need to reply, and in _that_ world, they confer using owls, and there will be one outside waiting for us to send back our reply".

A moment later, a brown, scruffy looking owl swept in, clicking its beak. Harry watched as Petunia went to the draws and took out some paper, a pen, and a piece of string, wrote out a reply in an elegant scrawl, before rolling up the paper and tying it to the owls leg, Harry stiffled a giggle as the owl snapped at Petunia, and flew off.

Petunia turned around, disgust prominent on her face, towards the young boy sitting in front of her. His leg was frantically knocking up and down, the only show of nervousness on the otherwise blank boy. It was unnatural.

"You will be going," Petunia said stiffly, "I've asked them to send a professor, to help you.." a twist of her lips, almost mocking, "adjust to the news, and help you get your supplies. They do it regularly with  _muggleborns_ , I don't see how you'd be any different".

"How do you know this?" the boy ventured tentatively, it wasn't often she was in a reciprocating mood, and this was one of the most amiable conversations they've had. Harry definitely didn't want to ruin it.  

"I've had some  _experience_ , with that world. Now! Do your chores, boy. If you do them well you can have a proper dinner tonight. Leave me to explain it to Vernon".

That was the best thing Harry had ever heard. Dinner  _and_ Petunia would ask Vernon. Despite his wounds, and the work he had to do, a small smile remained om his face, throughout the entire. Not even Vernon could wipe it off.

_He was a wizard._

* * *

The professors of Hogwarts sat around the table in the staffroom. The headmaster, in his usual gaudy garb, sat at the head of the long table a bowl of lemon drops in front of him, with his Deputy head sitting on the right of him. The rest of the faculty sat along both sides, from the tiny Professor Flitwick, sitting on the charmed chair to be taller, to the youngest Potions Master in the world, sitting with a dark frown on his face, surveying every word, to the turban clad defence teacher with watery eyes and the stench of garlic that hung around him.

It was there usual meeting during the summer. During this meeting, they discussed most things that had to be prepared for the next school year, such as if there was any change in books needed for students. It rarely changed for most part, as the subjects professor had not changed in some many years. Of course there is an exception to every rule, and that particular exception was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, who changed every year. But that wasn't the main subject of the meeting.

There was also the matter of the muggleborns who were attending for the first time. As was shown from past experience, the muggles usually had a hard time believing it. So, it was customary for one of the Professors to go to the houses and convince them, usually performing small "tricks" to help them. And if necessary, they accompanied the family to Diagon Alley, for if not shown the Leaky Cauldron, which was charmed against muggles seeing it, the muggles would not be able to actually go there. Of course, there was sometimes the confident parents and magical child who believed they would be able to do it themselves. And sometimes they did, with the magical child saw the pub and led them there, and then asked for help, but not always.  Most of the time, the job went to Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher, who was the only Muggleborn of all the faculty, and was a friendly person, despite her Sytherin tendencies. There was, of course, Professor Snape who was a Half-Blood. He had done it exactly once. The child had been terrified and the staff had made an unanimous vote that Snape was not the ideal person to welcome anyone. Snape had just smirked and leant back in his chair. Sometimes Professor McGonagall, the strict but fair Transfiguration teacher, or Professor Sprout the friendly Hufflepuff Head of House, or Professor Burbage, who despite being pure-blood, was the Muggle Studies teacher stepped in, when there was too many muggleborn students for Sinistra to deal with.

So, one of the points of the meeting was discussing how the introductions had gone. And there would be another meeting at the end of the summer to finalise any decisions and discuss the rest of the introductions.

As it was, they were talking about a child called Hermione Granger, who had been convinced by Professor Charity Burbage, the Muggles Studies teacher, that magic did exist. Burbage was exclaiming loudly how she was sure that the girl would be a suitable addition to Ravenclaw, when a ruffled looking brown owl swooped in hooting, landing infront of Dumbledore. Dumbledore lifted a hand to untie the letter attached to the bird, and smiled amusedly at the grouchy owl who bit his finger. He unfurled the paper, noting the obviously muggle paper and biro, though as he read it, he realised this was no muggle born. 

"Well, this certainly is unexpected," Dumbledor raised his voice, adressing the table, "It seems there is another young wizard who we need introduce to the wizarding world. We also need to take him to Diagon Alley aswell, as his gaurdians are not able to."

As one, the entire table, apart from Snape, looked at Professor Sinistra, who simply smiled and said "It would be my pleasure, Dumbledore, what is the name of this child?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with amusement as he said the next words, "Harry Potter".

The table practically exploded.

* * *

Back at No. 4 Privet Drive, shouting could be heard from the kitchen. It was an arguement between Petunia Dursely and Vernon Dursley, the latter who had walked in the same time the owl had flown in with a reply from Professor Sinistra, saying she would arrive the next morning. Petunia had whispered for Harry to run to his cupboard, which was where he was now sat, concentrating hard, trying to block out the noise in the kitchen.

He was staring at the door, willing it to lock; and to stay locked, so that even when Vernon inevitably came to beat him, so that nobody would be able to unlock it except from him. He stared harder, willing, hoping, even praying that he would here the click already. Two minutes stretched into five, and five stretched into ten. Outside his little cupboard of safety, the shouting raged on, and as the noise levels were raised even more, anxiety and fear sank into him, resting like a steel ball in his stomach. It seemed this is what it needed, as a few seconds later, the telltale _click_ sounded, and immediatly he felt safer. Proof he was  _magic_. Covering himself in his thin blanket, he laid down on his little cot, curling into a small ball, where he fell into a fitfull sleep, filled with flahes of green light and a woman screaming, accompanied by loud shouting.


	3. In Which Harry Arrives At The Leaky Cauldron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuck me, i deleted all of it AGAIN, but its okay as i actually took a picture of the work beforehand, sorry this took so long, i usually have alot of time on my hands because i procrastinate, and i have no social life. However, the day before yesterday was my birthdayyy yayayaya, im now 15 whoop, the day after that i studied, and today i had my results for my first module of Gcse's whoop, i actually did well whhop, so yay meee

That morning, Harry woke up later than usual. Maybe it was the fact that he was exhausted still from his beating, and was still recovering, or maybe it was the fact that Petunia didn't bang on his door that morning demanding he make breakfast. Whatever the reason for it, Harry was immensly greatful, as despite the nightmares, that was the longest sleep he had had... ever. Later that day, Harry would realise that the reason for what happened next, and why she didn't demand he do breakfast, was because she wanted to keep up the pretense of "the most perfect and normal family" there was. And they couldn't do that if a scrawny ten year old was making them breakfast.

However, his first thought when waking up, was that he'd slept through Petunia waking him up, as he could tell from the sounds in the kitchen, that everyone was awake. So, immedietly he was scrambling to get dressed, shoving his glasses onto the bridge of his nose, and pushing open his cupboard door. He barely registered the _click_ that sounded when he shoved it open. He raced into the kitchen and stopped dead at the sight of all the Dursleys eating their usual breakfast of Scrambled egg, bacon and toast already.

He started gasping, his palms starting to sweat at the tought of another beating. "I'm... I'm s-so sorry s-sorry", he choked out.

Vernon just ignored him though, as he did the other day, and Petunia just jerked her head at the place next to Dudley, where he noticed a plate of toast and a glass of water waitig. "Sit _down_ , Boy! The Professor will be here soon, and if you're not ready by the time she gets here..." She left the threat hanging.

He clambered into the chair, wincing as he jostled the welts still running tenderly across his back. He ate quickly, gulping his water down, afraid they might take it off him, they had done so before. As soon as he finished, he stood up and scurried to the sink, holding the dishes, and was about to start the washing up when Petunia snapped at him again.

"Ignore that, I'll do that later, go put on your shoes, you'll be able to leave soon." And, as he finished lacing up his ratty trainers, the doorbell rang.

* * *

As she walked up to the door of No. 4 Privet Drive, Professor Aurora Sinistra's thoughts turned to what she imagined the boy to be like, rather than what it was she was to tell him. Maybe, Harry would act like James, an air of cockiness masking his nervousness, but overall just being excited, or maybe he would be more like Lily, reserved but confident, but could be practically bouncing once you knew, or maybe, she mused as she rang the doorbell, he would be a mixture of both.

However, any thoughts of how Harry might be like his parents, quickly vanished when the door was opened. It swung open to reveal, a small, scruffy young boy. He had light brown skin, and a shock of messy, jet black hair that almost covered his eyes. His eyes, Sinistra thought, were very much like Lily's, a brilliant, Adava Kadavra green, which were covered in round spectacles, which almost matched James's, apart from the fact that the nose was covered in cellotape, and the lenses looked scratched. He wore a grey baggy jumper, which practically enveloped him and was bunched up and the arms. The collar of a dusty, red checkered shirt collar poked through the neck of the jumper. Lokking down, she saw a pair of baggy jeans which were rolled up several times at the cuffs, and a pair of dirty sneakers. She peered closely at his face, and through his hair, she could almost see the red lightning bolt that adorned his forehead, and when he grinned shyly at her, she noticed he had a tooth missing.

"Hello Ma'am", came the soft but strong voice, rather confidently. Behind Harry, a thin, horse-faced woman, peered and sniffed disdainfully at them.

Her shrill voice seemed a harsh contrast to Harry's, but it was her next words that made Sinistra start thinking about how Harry was such a sweet boy, if he had to listen to that all day, "Right then, you can leave now, you can explain to him everything, while you're on your way _there_ , can't you? Off you go then, Bo- _Harry."_

Sinistra opened her mouth to ask when they'd like Harry back, but was met the door slammed in her face. Glancing down at Harry, she saw him shrugging, as if he knew what she was going to ask, and he looked up at her, saying in a soft voice. "It's okay, you can give me back whenever. I mean, they'd really rather i don't just come back, but we can't have everything can we?", He had a look of ruefullness on his features, before they twisted into one of concentration. His hand lifted up to scratch his arm."They all go to bed at around 9, so as long as you have me back before 8, it should be okay? Of course, you can take me back sooner if you want. I mean, you probably won't wan't to spend too much time with me, so whenever you get bored of explaining things, you can just give me back, okay? Is that alright with you?"

A million thoughts ran through the professors mind, along the lines of _, what horrible human made him act like he is nothing but an object, would the Dursley's really never want to see him again?  I'll kill the person that made him believe that .no-one would want him,_ and most prominantly, _what the hell is he doing to his arm._

Quickly, she dropped to her knees, momentairily ignoring how Harry stiffened, and his breathing quickened. She gently tugged his hand away from arm, which was previously scoring deep red lines into his arms, close to drawing blood. Her breath caught in her throat, and her eyes fixed on the the pale lines that ran the length of his forearm, as if he'd done it before, oftenly And when she asked as such, he just shrugged and said innocently, "I dunno, I guess it just happens sub-conciously."

She stared at him for a long time, before standing up, and brushing off her jeans. "If you say so. Well, we havn't been properply been introduced yet. I'm Professor Aurora Sinistra. I am the Astronomy teacher at Hogwarts." She grinned, "You can call me whatever you'd like while we are outside of school, however, once the Hogwarts term has started, you must call me either Professor or Miss, is that okay?"

His vibrant green eyes pierced her deep brown ones, and he nodded shortly, replying with gentle, "Yes Ma'am."

Sinistra almost gaped, most jumped at the chance to call her nicknames, there were of course the few who chose to actually her "Sinistra", or even "Aurora", but no kid called her "ma'am", she was 31 for God's sake! Ma'am was for _old_ people, like McGonagall! However, she just sighed, nodded, and started walking down the road. She looked behind to check that Harry was following, and saw that he was just a step behind, head bowed slightly.

"I'm Harry Potter Ma'am."

That made Aurora huff a laugh underneath her breath. "Yes, I know that. In fact, just about the entire wizarding world knows that."

She heard a gentle scoff behind her, followed by a, "Pardon, Ma'am?"

She stopped and turned to look at him, wondering if he was trying to joke with her. She thought he wasn't the sort to do that, especially after calling her _Ma'am._ "Harry, the whole of the wizarding world knows your name. You _are_ famous, you know."

"Huh? How does entire magic world, know my name.  _Why_ would the magic world know my name. I'm not that important, after all, my _Uncle_ barely knows that I'm called Harry." He took a deep breath, eyes flashing, visably calming himself, though his hand had reached up to scratch furiously at his arm again. "You are kidding right? Ma'am".

Gently, she took his hand away from his arm again, this time though, the skin had broken and tiny drops of blood leaked down his arm, "No... you are famous, in my world, you're our _Hero_."

Harry only stared helplessly at her, mouth agape. She made a decision. Normally, she would of taken the train down with him, let him know how to get and how to find the Leaky Cauldron... But this time? She had a feeling that it would take _a lot_  more explaining than usual, and if she took the train, she couldn't exactly discuss it infront of muggles. It would be better to go straight there.

"Follow me, I'll explain it all now". She turned around walking quickly, still holding onto his hand, lest he started scratching again. Once she'd gotten to outside the neighbourhood, she glanced around and ducked into a alleyway. "Okay, you must hold on tight, we're about to appa-", she realised that would mean nothing to him, "we're going to teleport to Diagon Alley." Gripping his hand, she apparated.

* * *

Harry lurched away, hand covering his mouth, trying not to throw up his meagre breakfast. Once he felt stable enough, he almost turned to shout at the Professor. She had dragged him through his nieghbourhood, into an alley, then _teleported_ him, almost making him throw up! He caught himself, however, and clenched his eyes shut for a moment and controlled his breathing. His hands twitched to scratch at his arm, and he breathed even more deeply.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked around him, surveying his surroundings. He was currently standing in a dingy liitle pub, the lighting was low, and numberable people stood or sat talking to eachother. They were all wearing what looked to be some sort of robes, some were wearing pointed hat's, and one particular guy was wearing a purple turban, that seemed to smell like garlic. He turned to look at the Professor Sinistra, she was standing tall, dark skin seeming dull in the low light, though her sharp cheeckbones seemed to shine and her deep brown eyes glinted, Not one of her braids seemed out of place from her olive coloured headband. Compared to others, wearing what he presumed to be wizards clothing, Sinistra was wearing "normal" clothing, a mustard coloured turtle neck and blue jeans with some sort of boots.

She visably took a deep breath and looked straight in his eyes, smiling tightly, "Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron".


	4. In Which Harry Goes to Gringotts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, Harry and Draco were gonna meet in this chapter, but i decided it was getting too long (I know it actually isnt that long but it felt like that for me okay) and that i needed to post so i cut it short and they'll meet in the next chape.  
> Thank you for all your lovely comments, esp. the one i got while writing this, ive never laughed harder
> 
> Also I've edited Chapter 4 to explain Sinistras action a bit more for taking him to the Leaky Cauldron. and merged a few chapters together to make a bit longer  
> 

Harry gazed around as a few heads turned towards him, but turned back swiftly when they saw it was just a boy and Professor Sinistra. The pub was dingy, and low-lit, the few flames that did burn, cast shadows on the occupants in the room, throwing the faces in stark relief.

Harry almost flinched when a hand came in contact with his shoulder, only to relax when he realised it was Aurora leading him to the bar. Behind the wooden surface, stood a ma cleaning a dirty glass with a white rag, He was tall, and looked quite.... ordinary compared to the other people in the room, wearing brown slacks and a white shirt rolled up at his elbows.

"Hullo, Aurora". Came the man's greeting, paired with a cheery smile, "Another visit to Diagon Alley I assume. And whose is this young man 'ere then."

"Yes please, Tom, can you open the wall up please?" She looked at him strangely, then leaned in closer and said conversationally, "This is Harry... Harry Potter."

While the two adults had been talking to eachother, Harry had been looking around, surveying everyone and everything closely. People stood or sat in close clusters, playing cards or drinking pints of what he thought was beer, many people or different cultures were there, and the murmur of foreign languages seemed to enclose upon him. Recognising a few, he was trying to listen in on a conversation in German, but when he heard his name, he looked up sharply and spoke loudly, "Hullo, Sir".

It was a moment before he realised that all conversation in the tavern had gradually all but come to a stop. He looked over to why, to see everybody staring at him, eyes narrowed in interest or fascination, as if he were a snake in an enclosure. He turned around fully to see the turban wearing man, walking up to him, his had twisting nervously before him. The closer he came, the stronger the scent of garlic became, until it overpowered every other sense. The man was pale and this, with weak, blue eyes that twitched.

When he reached the trio, he dipped his head in greeting, "P-Professor Sinistra, how nice it is to s-s-see you." His gaze suddenly sharpened as it focused on Harry, "and you must b-be Ha-Harry P-Potter."

"Yes, Sir. How are you, sir". Harry bowed his head dutifully, a sharp pain lancing through his forehead, as Sinitra's grip on his shoulder tighteed minusculey.

"V-very good, s-so _so_ very g-good", the Professor mumbled, he opened his mouth as if to say more, when Sinistra cut in.

"Well then, Quirinus, I'd better get young Harry down to Diagon Alley," She smiled thinly, an uncomfortable expression on her face, "Tom, if you would.."

The bartender started from behind he bar, setting down a glass and rag, "Of course, Profe'or, right this way then," and strolled through the gloom to a door on the far side, giving no indication to the stuttering Professor Quirrel, at all.

"C'mon, Harry", Aurora pushed slightly against Harry's shoulder and walked smoothly over to Tom. As the pair walked passed Quirrel, pain shot up into his scar, worse than before, and he allowed himself a moment of weakness. He clenched his eyes shut and slapped a hand over his scar, wondering why it was hurting, now of all times, as he was guided by Sinistra's hand. It was briefly over, and he opened his eyes to be greeted by Tom's worried face, holding open the wooden door to bright sunlight.

"You alright there, lad?", Tom questioned, his voice gentle.

"Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir." Harry's reply was immediate and sharp.

Tom looked doubtfully back at Sinistra, but then shrugged and nodded his head, "If ya say so, Harry. Right this way." He led the way into a.. a dead end? All that was there was a brick wall. Dipping his hand into his pocket, the bartender withdrew a long thin stick. Harry's breath disappeared, as his mind flashed back to the countless times  _his_ _Uncle would_ _disappear upstairs and return with a long stick, an old walking stick, his face puce, shaking with anger or malicious pleasure, stick raised ready to strike and oh God, oh God,_ oh God, (God can't help you now, you know that). "Harry? You alrigh', you're lookin kinda peaky."

Harry took a deep breath and opened his eyes, (when did he close them?), "It's alright, Sir. I'm aright, Sir. Just a small headache, Sir." Harry smiled, what he hoped what convincingly, however, Tom just looked more worried and sent a pointed look at his arm.

Harry looked down at his arm in surprise. He was scratching it again. Whoops. He stopped and pulled sleeve down over his red and blotchy looking forearm. He pulled a sheepish expression on, "Sorry, Sir." Tom looked even less convinced, but all he could do was shrug, and hold the stick ready in his hand.

"Harry," Sinistra addressed him warily, "this is a wand, and now we're going to enter Diagon Alley... a wizard shopping street."

And with that, Tom tapped a couple of bricks in the wall, one, two, three, then four, in an apparently  random order. Then the bricks seemed to shift, they started to wriggle, and Harry started to question his terrible vision. But no, the wall was parting, shifting apart grandly. They withdrew completely, disappearing into the sidewall completely. Harry's were presented with a crowded, small street. Colourful shopsigns, families, shouting from... everywhere.

Faintly, he heard Sinistra speaking and clasping a hand on his shoulder, (again? why did she keep doing that, this much contact wasn't... normal), "Welcome to Diagon Alley, for all the Witching and Wizarding needs"

Harry didn't respond, he _couldn't_ respond. He stood still, trying to take in the cacophony of noise, the vibrancy of scene infront of him. If he'd had a headache before from Quirrel's _stench,_ it wasn't anything to the strong migraine he was getting.

Tom looked between the frozen Harry and the Professor, and seemed to send a silent message to Sinistra, who nodded in reply. "Right then, " he said, clapping his hands together, "It was lovely to meet you Harry. 'Memeber, if you ever need something, or ever a place to stay, the Leaky Cauldron is always open to you. And, I'd better get going incase it's getting to rowdy in there. See ya again, Harry, Professor Sinistra." He dipped his head in fairwell and set off back into the tarvern, closing the door behind him.

The closer _bang_ seemed to shake Harry out of it, and he looked up to find to source of noise, to see Tom gone, and the Professor rummaging throught the leather satchal for something.

"Aha!", Sinisra exclaimed, holding out a piece of paper to him, "This is your the Hogwarts supply list, all of it uou can get right here."

Uncertainly, he took the piece of paper, and started to read it, like the letter he had before, it was made of thick yellow parchment and was written in emerald green ink.

> **First-year students will require** : 
> 
> **Uniform**
> 
>   1. Three Sets of Plain Work Robes (Black)
>   2. One Plain Pointed Hat (Black) for day wear
>   3. One Pair of Protective Gloves (dragon hide or similar)
>   4. One Winter Cloak (Black, silver fastenings)
> 

> 
> Please note that all student's clothes should carry name-tags at all times.
> 
> **Books**
> 
>   * The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 by Miranda Goshawk
>   * A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
>   * Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
>   * A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
>   * One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
>   * Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
>   * Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
>   * The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
> 

> 
> **Other Equipment**
> 
>   * 1 Wand
>   * 1 Cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
>   * 1 set of glass or crystal phials
>   * 1 telescope
>   * 1 set of brass scales
> 

> 
> **Students may also bring an Owl, a Cat or a Toad**

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

 

He looked up from the page, "But, Professor! How am I meant to pay for any of this? I have no money, at all!" He questioned, his voice gentle.

Sinistra almost laughed, _no money_ , his father was one of the last hiers of the well renowned Potter family, and when he dies, every single coin went to Harry, not to mention all the muggle money from Lily's side of the family. Harry himself was probably richer than the entire Zabini family. However, she just !sighed to herself, from what she'd seen of how Harry acted and how he was treated by the Durselys, it was probably true, that he'd never had a single knut of penny to his name. "Not at all, Harry, your parents left all their money to you. Which is, if I'm honest _a lot_ of money."

Harry just looked at her in slight awe as Sinistra checked her watch. "Now... we'd better hurry, we might be earlier than the normal Hogwarts rush, but there are still going to be many queues. C'mon now Harry and _don't_ lose me, it'll be hassle to try and find you." She grinned at him, but when he just nodded his head furiously, she mentally berated herself and told herself not to apologize, he probably wouldn't even know what she was saying sorry for.

She smiled tightly as him again and set off into the crowd, glancing behind to make sure he was following.

* * *

 As Harry set off behind the Professor, he heard a loud rumbling. Quickly he turned around, to find... a brick wall, the entrance way was once again sealed off. Harry jumped back around to find Sinistra already metres infront of him. He ran forward, entering the swilring masses trying to keep track of the mustard yellow amogst a see of red and yellow and emerald and pink and blue. He ran foward swerving famillies and children _who seemed to think it was okay to stop for a chat in the middle of the street_.

He caught up to the Professor, who finally glanced back and nodded at him. He gulped in huge mouthfulls of air, trying to catch his breath as he walked among the ocean of suffocating crowds. As he proceeded quickly, he felt every movement, his back on fire underneath shirt and jumper, which chaffed at his welts. His head pounded even worse than before now that he was within the crowds, and he clutched at his skull trying to relieve the immense pain. He wished he could curl back in his cupboard again, which although was small, was absent if all these over-powering scents and sights and noises, it was cosy and familiar and _dark_. But, he wasn't there, _you've just got man up and move on_ , he told himself firmly. It was a phrase Vernon had used many a time when Harry was weak and he'd protested to working in the garden with some injury or other, usually multiple welts or bruises with fractures . Petunia had looked about dissapprovingly at that particular phrase, as though she was about to protest. As usual though, she just kept silent as if she worried what he would do, however she did toss him an entire packet of painkillers! He used them sparingly, although sometimes he would recieve more at Christmass or in other holidays. He still had a couple of packets and a tube of anti- inflammatory cream/disinfectant cream. Maybe, just maybe he could ask the Professor if she knew where a pharmacy was, and he could buy some migraine tablets with all of his supposed wealth-

 _ooof!_ He had walked into the Professor... oh God, she was going to kill him! She had been so nice and now he'd walked into her? And she'd also fallen over as she'd stumbled forward. _No, no no no no nononononononono no._ He then stumbled backwards, tripping over a stray foot or rock, landed on his but. He felt the urge to raise arm to fend off any blows.. but his arm _burned_ and instead he raised his hand to scrath furiously at his arm, trying to relieve the itch as his breathing quickened desperately.

* * *

"Harry! Stop it, you're gonna hurt yourself! Are you okay? I didn't mean to stop so suddenly. Are you hurt at all?" Sinistra had turned around to see if Harry was alright and found him him on the floor, visably quivering and eyes alight with fear. He was babbling incoherantly. And his hand was scratching at his arm, grey jumper and red shirt bunched up at his elbow. She kneeled down next to him, trying to stop the limb that was harming his body. Up close, she could hear what he was muttering.

"I'm so sorry, it won't happen again. It was an accident, I'm sorry. I'm sorry". She clasped her hand around his, feelig his sharp nails. Looking at his arm, she found that he had drew blood.  

Sighing heavily, she snaked an arm around his shoulder and lifting him up until he was mostly standing up. Supporting his wieght, Sinistra helped him over to nearby bench bench, next to the white marble building.

"Hey, hey," she soothed, "It's okay, no ones going to hurt you. _I'm not going to hurt you._ " She rubbed his shoulders gently until his breathing calmed, all the while murming words to make him feel safe. She had no idea who make him act like this, but she was going to curse his ass into oblivion once she did. ~~Well, she did have _some_ idea, and she would bring it up at the Professors next meeting. If they believed her. ~~

"You okay now, Harry? No need to be scared. I promise." Sinistra really had no idea how to proceed from here. Yes, she was a teacher, and yes, she was used to dealing with children, but not personally. That was the Head of Houses position. Of course, if some of the first years went to her because they found Snape to scary, she would talk, then bring them to Severus herself. But, she couldn't do that here... maybe a distraction? To take his mind off whatever he though she was going to do to him. She held out her pinky finger, "See, I swear that I will never hurt you!"

Harry just looked at the outstretched finger confusedly. Sinistra chuckled slightly, "Now just wrap your pinky around mine... like that." She squeazed his finger lightly. "And that is a Pinky Swear. And you can never _ever_ break a Pinky Swear." In that moment, she could of sworn she heard a giggle coming from the young man. Looking up from their intertwined fingers, she saw he was smiling softly.

"Thank You, Professor Sinistra." His voice was still so gentle, and innocent. "Sorry for causing trouble, Ma'am, it wont happen again."

"Dont worry about it, Harry, i's not your fault." She stood up, and moved her hand onto his shoulder instead, "Let's go to Gringotts now, if that's okay. You can rest a bit if you want."

"No thank you, Ma'am, whatever you say sounds good to me," Harry said, almost submissively.

The Professor sighed, this was getting no-where, "Well, you can choose which shop you want to go to first, okay?" Harry just looked a little confused, but did nod his head, so Sinistra took that as a sign of agreement. She stood up and stretched herback, watching the crowds as she did so. She looked down to see Harry stand up, and see his face scrunch up in pure pain. "Hey, were you hurt?"

Harry's face turned to one of protest, and he opened his mouth to deny it, but she sent him a pointed look, and he instead answered truthfully, "It's just a headache, Ma'am, I think it's just too noisy for me."

"Huh," she replied, "I think I have a couple of potions in my bag.." Sinistra rummaged through her bag, and withdrawing a small glass vial filled with a dark looking liquid. She uncapped it and held it out to Harry, it's best to just down it in one.

"A potion...?", Harry looked at her apprehensively, but dutifully took it a swallowed it quickly. His brows furrowed in slight disgust until an expression of relaxation came upon him. "That worked... really well. Thank you, Professor."

Sinistra chuckled slightly at the comment. "You're welcome. Now, lets get into Gringotts."

This time, to make sure no more such accidents happen, Sinistra kept Harry in front of her and her hand on his shoulder as they made their way up to the marble pillars that made up the entrace to the in-famous bank of the Wizarding world. Taller than all the other buildings, it towered over the squashed together street. Together, they approached the burnished bronze doors of bank. To the side stood a small creature of some kind, dressed in red and gold, it had a pointed, swarthy face with a pointed beard, it was about a head shoulder and Harry wondered what it could possibly be...

As they passed by, the... thing bowed its head and Sinistra whispered, "Goblins" to Harry, and nodded to the Goblin in reply.

"Goblins", Harry breathed in wonderment.

They came upom a second set of doors, silver, and this time he noticed something inscribed on them. 

* * *

 

> _Enter, stranger, but take heed_  
>  _Of what awaits the sin of greed_  
>  _For those who take, but do not earn,_  
>  _Must pay most dearly in their turn._  
>  _So if you seek beneath our floors_  
>  _A treasure that was never yours,_  
>  _Thief, you have been warned, beware_  
>  _Of finding more than treasure there_

Silently, he wondered what fool would possibly try to rob a bank _in_ _the Wizarding World,_ wouldn't it be guarded with so many spells and other strange creatures like the Goblins. They walked into a great, marble hall, where hundreds of the smaller creatures were waddling about working, or sitting behind tall desks doing paperwork, examining precious jewels with magnifying glasses, weighing coins on brass scales, or tending to customers as they came up asking to withdraw or deposit money. Too many doors to count were leading off the to the side of the hall. 

Together, they walked up to a counter free of any customer, where a goblin sat on top of a high stool, writing in a book filled with lots of numbers. "Hello", Sinistra greeted. The goblin grunted, but didn't look up from writing. "Harry Potter here needs to withdraw some gold from his vault." Now _that_ made the goblin look up and peer at him, with no change in expression, the creature seemed to scrutinise Harry like it was about to unravel all of Harry's secrets. Harry shuddered.

"Do you have the key, Ma'am," came the customer service type, but croaky voice.

Sinistra looked mildy alarmed, muttering "I hope so", she once again rumaged through her satchal. She started reaching in with a frustrated look, until she was elbow deep, although the bag should've only been deep enough to go halfway up her forearm. _Magic,_ Harry realised. Eventually, she pulled out of the bag, withdrawing with her a tiny golden key, which the she hed up for inspection. The goblin then scrutinised _that_ , very closely.

"Everything seems to be order. Griphook shall take you to the vaults right away. Griphook!" The Goblin shouted out the last part, making Harry jump.

As he watched a goblin scurry through the hall over to the counter they were at, Sinistra leaned over and spoke closely with the Goblin, "Also, Hagrid will be down today or tomorrow to collect what is in Vault Severn Hundren and Thirteen".

"We'll be prepared, Ma'am."

Sinistra nodded her head and turned on her heel to look at the goblin that approached them.

"I'm Griphook, this way." Griphook led the way out of the hall, through a pair of doors, down a hall until they reached another door. "This way", he said gruffly, opening the door for them, Harry was expecting more grand marble, what he wadn't expecting was a narrow stone passage-way that sloped steeply downwards, lit with flaming torch. Lying upon the floor were railway tracks, and when Griphook let out a high-pitched whistle, a small cart came hurtling towards them. They climbed in, and then they were off.

They hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Left, right, right, left, right, middle fork, right, right fork, left, bridge over a massive canyon, where Harry was sure he saw a flash of fire and a silhuette of a _dragon_. But, before he could look properly, they were passed it, once again back in the labrynth of stone and fire. That's when Harry realised that no-one was actually steering the cart, it knew exactly where to go.

At last they stopped off by a large vault door. They alltepped off o the area infront of the vault, where Griphok took the key of Sinistra and unlocked the door. Green smoke billowed out, and Harry coughed heavily, and when the smoke cleared, Harry gaped in clear astonishment. _Piles_ of coins were stacked well above Harry. In gold, silver and bronze, they all glimmered in the dull light. "This is.... this is all mine?" This was.. incredible.

"Yup, all of it." Sinistra smiled, "the gold ones are Galleons, the silver are Sickles, and the bronze knuts."

As Sinistra helped Harry some of each into a small sack she had taken from her satchal, Harry was still in awe. All of this- his. His alone. He'd had this all his life and never known. Harry cursed the Dursley's for keeping him away from such a fortune... Or maybe they didn't know about it. Maybe that was why they hated him so much... they were expecting an inheritance of his parents and they got nothing... It would of been even better if they'd never been in a stupid car crash, cause they were stupidly drunk and they stupidly died, leaving Harry with his stupid Aunt and Uncle...

With this sudden change in thought, his face must have betrayed it, looking so sad or something that Sinistra commented on it.

"What's the matter Harry? Doesn't this make you happy, at all?"

"It does.. but I just wished my parents were here. I mean no offense to you, Ma'am, but I just wished they never got drunk and crashed their car... I wish they could of been the ones to show me everything", Harry bowed his head shamefully, he knew there was no point in wishing, but still, sometimes he couldn't help himself.

"Oh, Harry", Sinistra murmerd. Inwardly, she once more cursed the Durselys for telling such lies. Harry deserved so much more


	5. In Which Harry Met Draco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have literally no excuse, pls forgive me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaddup I'm Kathleen and i never fuckin learnt how to manage my time

The ride back with filled with awkward silence, interluded only by the Goblin telling him how the money pouch Sinistra had used worked, until they stood just to the side of the great Gringotts entrance. Sinistra didn't really want Harry to know in that grotty vault that a mass murderer had actually killed his parents and not a drunken car crash. And although, Harry hadn't actually shown any extreme emotions apart from fear, Sinistra still didn't expect that pleasant a reaction when he heard the truth. So, when they stood outside of Gringotts, just standing in silence, while the crowds buzzed and swarmed besides them, Sinistra thought that would be no point in delaying any longer.

"If you don't mind, Harry, we can go Fortescues for an ice-cream. Do you like ice-cream?"

Harry had never actually had an ice-cream before. The closest he ever came was the lemon ice-lolly at the zoo, before the snake... incident. He thought it's be glorious to actually have one. But he didn't dare tell Sinistra that, he could already tell how much she pitied him. And he did _not_ want any sympathy over ice cream. Pity just made him feel... uncomfortable. So Harry just nodded his head quickly.

Sinistra sighed and pushed her way through the crowds to a large ice cream parlour, making sure Harry was following her. Picnic tables were sprawled out in front of the cramped shop, families crowded round the tables, parents either looking proud of their child or annoyed at the prospect of having to shop even more. Together, they made their way up to the counter. Surprisingly, there was only one other person in the queue, so there time to order came quickly.

As the man greeted them and asked what they wanted, Harry looked at the wide array of ice creams on offer, and had no idea what to order. In the end, he ordered plain vanilla, then at a glanced from Sinatra, asked for chocolate sauce please. As the barrister read out their total, Harry reached into his pouch to grab some Galleons, when Sinistra stopped him.

"Uh uh," Sinistra said rather cheerily. "My treat", and fished some Galleons out of her satchel, telling the barrister a cheery, "thank you!" as they left the counter.

They sat down at a near bench, setting down the ice cream filled cones in their hands. Almost immediately, Sinistra adopted a sombre air and stared deeply at Harry. His emerald green (as green as the Nevada Degrade spell) flashed uneasily as he took a small bite of his ice cream

"Harry", Sinistra hesitated, trying to decide how to deal with this, "what do you know of your, parents?"

Immediately, his gaze seemed to harden, "Nothing much, just what my Aunt and Uncle told me". 

"Which was...?" Sinistra gently inquired.

"My mother was a whore. My father was an unemployed, drunk scoundrel. Which was what killed them. My father was driving drunk, and crashed, which is what gave me this scar." Harry's voice become monotone as he recited the facts he had heard over a hundred times, and lifted up his fringe to show the scar, which split across his forehead, red and just touching the top of his eyebrow. 

Sinistra's heart constricted tightly as she heard the lies spilling from Harry' mouth. Rage followed quickly. How  _dare_ these people hide the truth from him. 

"Oh Harry... Your relatives.. they.. That is not the truth." 

Harry gaped visibly, surprise flashing across his eyes. It was gone then, followed by bitter resignation, then that was gone too, back to a controlled surprise. If the professor wasn't a Slytherin, she wouldn't have even noticed.

"Wha- what is... What is the truth then." Harry stuttered out.

Sinistra glanced around, looking for prying eyes or ears before looking straight at Harry. “They were killed. Murdered by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on Halloween 1981.” She stated quietly. If being a teacher had taught her anything, it was when dealing with children, it was that they are much more mature and capable than they seemed.

She fell silent, waiting for a reaction.

“Is he still out there? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, I mean”, was Harry's eventual reply, some sort of quiet anger resonating.

Sinistra shook her head. “That night he tried to kill you as well. He cast the killing curse at you, but it rebounded, hitting him instead. That's why the people in The Leaky cauldron knew you. No one has ever survived the killing curse before, until you. Everyone in the Wizarding World now believes that you were were the one who vanquished him. The-Boy-Who-Lived”.

“The-Boy-Who-Lived”, Harry repeated numbly. He stared down at his ice cream cone, watching a small trail of melted ice cream run over his fingers.

They sat in silence for a while, eating while Harry tried to take in the truth.

“They were wizards then? Like you?... Like me?” Harry whispered.

“They were. They went to Hogwarts too, same as you. Both in Gryffindor”.

When the small boy said or did nothing more than eating his ice cream, Sinistra continued speaking.

“I didn't know your parents very well, I was a couple years older than your parents in school, and in a different House- Gryffindor- but I did know this. Your parents loved you dearly, some of the best times for them were you. They were smart, your dad was more of a trouble maker and your mum more of a no nonsense sort of person, but they were both kind and ready to lend a hand when needed... they were good people”. She broke off to eat her ice cream- seeing that Harry was almost finished with his.

Harry meanwhile was trying to think things through while eating on auto-pilot, not even realising that he had finished his. His parents were wizards, worthwhile people. And they were murdered. He realised of course that that wasn't the full story, there were too many holes. Who was this “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named”. And why couldn't he be named, did he just not have one or were people too scared to say it? He was guessing the latter. And why did this Not-Be-Named guy go after his parents? Why did he have to ruin a family, and the rest of his childhood? But if people were excited enough to call him famous if he defeated this man, then he would definitely be in the history books, and he was sure he saw one on the way to the bank midst all the chaos.

He thought back on the conversation. Sinistra had willingly bought him an ice cream with no indication that she wanted anything back. Easily gave up information and even went so far as to elaborate on answers that could have been one word and gave facts without any prompting. The professor seemed to feel sorry for him and he knew that she was worried about him from his little breakdown earlier, but she was also matter of fact with the truth about his parents and didn't try any physical contact with him to try and comfort him.

She seemed... good, if anything. Genuinely a nice person. And she sort of reminded him of the local librarian, who was the best person Harry had ever met. All his instincts were telling him that it was okay to trust Sinistra. Of course he wasn't going to blurt out every event of the past eleven years, but he figured it was okay to relax around her. She had already shown multiple times that she didn't want Harry to hurt, from either himself or her. He thought of the Pinky Swear and blushed a little.

Harry swallowed and looked up from his hand tightly holding the napkin and sent a weak smile towards the Professor.

“If you've uh finished ice cream, could we go go shopping for robes now?”.

He supposed it could've been the fact that this was the loudest he had spoken all day, or that he had first asking a question without it being just following a conversation, but she sent a brilliant smile his way and replied, “Of course! Robes it is then.”

 

They made they way over to a shop called 'Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, Sinistra making sure Harry was at her side the entire time. The inside of the shop was cool and practically noiseless compared to the outside. It smelled of cotton and other fabrics. It was rather a relief to his senses even with the headache gone.

“Hello deary! Hogwarts first year is it?” Madame Malkin was a squat witch with a friendly face dressed all in mauve. When Harry nodded in reply she continued, “Got the lot here- another young man being fitted up just now, in fact, just over there, Jess will deal with you.” She pointed with a short arm when Sinistra motioned to speak with her.

In the back of the shop, a boy with pale skin and even paler hair stood on a stool while a witch pinned up his long black robes. A witch Harry presumed was Jess slipped a long robe over his head and began to pin it to the right length. Harry back stung sharply in process to the movement.

“Hullo”, said the boy, a sort of uncomfortable smirk was on his face, “Hogwarts too?”

“Yes”, said Harry, unsure what to do, not many other children approached him often.

“My father's next door buying books for me and my mother's up the street looking at wands,” said the boy, spoken with a sort of high society accent that Harry had only heard from figures dressed up all fancy whenever Aunt Petunia ever watched TV. “Then I'm going to try and convince my parents to buy a racing broom. I don't see why first-years can't have their own, I'll have to try and smuggle mine in somehow. Have you got a broom?”

“No”, Harry said.

“Do you play Quidditch at all?”

Harry, thinking what on earth Quidditch could be, could only reply,”No”.

“Well, _I_ do, and come second year, I know I'll make the team. I have to. Do you know what house you'll be in? I'll most likely be in Slytherin, all my family were”.

Harry jumped at the chance to say more than just 'no'. “Well, my parents were in Gryffindor apparently. So I assume they'd expect me to be in Gryffindor too.”

The boy regarded him, and in the long standing pause, Harry hoped that he said the right thing, was that what he meant by house?

“Well, I suppose that's better than a Hufflepuff. I'd rather go to Durmstrang than there”. The boy shuddered slightly.

“What's wrong with Hufflepuff?” Harry had to ask, what if he were to go there? Was it really that bad?

The boy seemed to judge him again before shrugging and replying. “Nothing  _ really _ , but it's just the house where no one else belongs go to. Gryffindor is bravery, Slytherin is cunning, Ravenclaw is intelligence and, Hufflepuff is loyalty or hard working”.

Before Harry could reply, the witch at the boy's feet stood up. “There you go, dear. All done now”.

As the boy hoped off and as he received his couple of bags filled with swathes of dark material, he turned around and looked back at Harry, “My name's Draco, by the way. See you at Hogwarts”. He sent a smile Harry's way that he privately though looked much better on his face than the stiff sneer.

“See you at Hogwarts, Draco”.

***

Sinistra watched Harry make his way to the back of the shop towards a blond haired boy she thought must be a Malfoy and turned back to Madame Malkin.

“The standard three sets of robes, winter cloak, hat and protective gloves please. As well as winter gloves for everyday use and two pairs of boots, everyday and winter. Everything embroidered with the name Harry Potter. I'll pay for all the extras.” Sinistra waited for a reaction off the squat witch. She should have known better, Madame Malkin was a no-nonsense witch from Hufflepuff whose ability to look past bias as she clothed nearly everyone from Hogwarts and sometimes their parents, almost astounded her.

All she did was raise an eyebrow. “That's Harry Potter? Poor dear. What do you want the extras to be made of?”

* * *

They left the shop together, Harry now holding two bags, filled with fabric the same Draco's were. He was told a Featherlight charm had been cast on it that would last at least until he got home. They entered another shop called Florish and Botts, where Harry requested that he might look around a bit after collecting his school books. Sinistra, especially after seeing his face practically light up at seeing the library, laughed a yes and watched him race off into the towering bookshelves. Close to an hour later, nearing 12 'o' clock, found Sinistra calling Harry's name. The boy in question was seen minutes later running back to where he left Sinistra.

“Sorry I took so long! I just got caught up in looking at all the books, there just so much to learn!” The boy panted, holding a stack of books at his sides, the Hogwarts textbooks long since deposited by the counter for later purchase.

“That's quite alright, Harry. It's nice to see someone so interested in learning. Are you going to buy all those books?” She looked down at the pile, _Hogwarts: A History_ was among them, as well as a couple other history books (both recent and ancient), _Curses and Counter-Curses, Useful Everyday Charms and Spells_ and a few others.

Eyes shining in excitement, he nodded quickly up and down, “I've calculated it from the signs I saw about the package deals at the other stores, and I should still have plenty left over. And it's not like I'll be spending much else other than school supplies. Plus, if I don't have enough in the pouch, the Goblin said I just have to think about the amount I want and tap it with my wand and I'll have it... Unless, I'm not allowed them?” The last part was said with dull resignation as he awaited the answer.

“Of course you can get them. You can get whatever you want. Just try not to use it all okay?”

Harry once again lit up and he made his way over to the counter, cuffs rolled up and hair in his eyes, trying carry all his books at once.

“These and the Hogwarts ones please, Sir!”

Soon they were gone, Harry carrying more bags with Strength and Featherlight charms imbued, insisting he could carry them all. Next stop was called Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment which was a shop stacked with cauldrons, scales, phials and telescopes, which came in all sizes and materials like gold or silver and some bigger than his cupboard. Luckily, Sinistra helped Harry pick out the specified items and told Harry with pride in her voice that Astronomy was a great subject, just as important as the others. She grinned when Harry told her he knew almost every single star to be seen in the night sky and the planets and their moons.

On the way to the next shop, they encountered a giant of a man, with ruddy cheeks and wild hair at least 3 times the size of Sinistra who introduced himself as Hagrid.

“On 'ogwarts duty ya know, Vault Seven Hundred an' thir'een.”

Next was the apothecary, with jars filled with grisly items and horrid smells that made Harry's head ache. Stepping outside with the Hogwarts potions ingredients package deal was a relief. Although not specified, Sinistra told him that quills and parchment as well as a trunk would be needed and they headed to the stationary shop.

“Quills?”,came Harry's confused voice, “when not just normal pens?”

Sinistra could only shrug and laugh, “To this day, I can honestly say I don't know, I assume it's to keep up the theme of old-timey magic.”

At Harry's still confused but slightly amused face she told him, “You'll see when you get there”.

Then, finally, was the chance to buy a wand. The shop was shabby looking, with faded paint and grimy windows that hid the inside. Peeling gold letters over the door read _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC._ A tinkling bell rang somewhere deep in the shop. The shop smelled musty and it was dark inside save for a few candles which seemed seemingly random. Wand boxes were stacked up high on all walls, some precariously so, as if they were about to fall from one touch. He didn't dare break the silence that seemed to reside in the magic of this place. But Sinistra did. Telling him he was to wait outside the shop if she wasn't there by the time he was finished, as she had to go buy something from another shop.

The bell rang again as the door opened then shut.

“Good afternoon”, said a soft voice, and when Harry turned around and before him stood him, his wide, pale eyes shining in the candle light.

“Hello, Sir”.

Ollivander already knew his name from just a glance. Harry didn't question how, when most of the street hadn't noticed unless they inspected him close enough. The wand maker rattled off some facts about his parents' wands. Which was interesting. When he was younger, he didn't really care for his parents who were stupid enough to drink and drive. He'd long ago come to terms that he didn't have parents, that he never would, and it was most likely he would never know anything about them. Plus he couldn't miss what he never had and there was no point in crying, never had been. But now, maybe the reality was finally setting in. His parents were wizards. They weren't as the Dursleys said they were. And now he had a chance to learn about the world they were in. He drank in every word.

Ollivander moved closer, an arm width away, seemingly understanding that Harry didn't like to be touched. His finger tip hovered above where Harry's scar was, “I'm sad to say I sold the wand that gave you that scar,” he said softly. “Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful Wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... Well, if I'd known what that wand was going to do...”

He shook his head and took a step back, “Well, now – Mr Potter. Let me see.” He pulled a tape measure out of his pocket. “Which is your wand arm?”

“I'm ambidextrous”, Harry shuffled nervously.

If possible Ollivander's eyes seemed to grow more bright in the candle light. “Hold out both arms then.”

Harry did so, feeling foolish, and the wand maker started measuring him, shoulders to fingers, then wrists to elbows, shoulders to floor, knees to armpits and around his head. As he measured he spoke, telling him of how every and was different, and what he used in them.

Soon the tape measure was dropped and Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

He handed Harry a wand, “Beechwood and Dragon heart string. Nine Inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave.”

He took it and waved it, but it was just as soon snatched out of his hands, and another wand handed to him. But then that one was gone too.

Again and again. He tried new wands, each of them sounding as different and interesting as the others. But to no avail. And Ollivander's eyes just grew brighter and seemed more excited. Harry didn't notice the bell ring somewhere in the shop and Sinistra slipped inside

“Tricky customer eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match somewhere here- now I wonder- yes- unusual – holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”

Harry took the wand and immediately felt the difference. Something seemed to glow, deep and warm inside him. He waved it in front of him, through the dusty air. A jet of silver sparks shot out, sending spot of light around the room as a warm gust blew through.

A clapping sound brought him from his reverie and he shot around to see Sinistra smiling at him. He sent a wild grin back.

Ollivander took Harry's wand from him and boxed it up and wrapped it up in brown paper. “Curious... How very curious.”

I'm sorry, Sir. But what's curious?” Harry turned around to look and the old wand maker

“Well, child. It just so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather – just one other. It is curious indeed that you you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar.”

Harry swallowed.

“Yes, 13”½. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you Mr Potter... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things- terrible, yes, but great.”

After that, Harry paid the seven galleons for his wand and they walked out the shop, feeling those wide blue eyes staring at him intently.

  
  


Out side, the late afternoon stung his eyes, and as a blinked his vision back, he noticed Sinistra holding something... an owl?

“I realise that it is not your birthday just quite yet, Harry. But, this is for you.” She held out the cage. Inside sat a beautiful large snow white owl, with it's head tucked under her wing. “All her necessities are in here.” She held a bag out as well.

Sinistra refused to hand them over, saying that he was already carrying far too much. Harry couldn't stop stuttering and repeating thank you. His first real present! And from someone he hardly knew...

“Now that you have everything, I think I'd better be getting you back. We'll apparate back, the train might be delayed. Hold on tight.”

He held on to her arm, holding tightly on to all his bags. He felt the horrible feeling being sucked through a tube and being spat out again, then they were back on solid ground. He opened his eyes, struggling not to vomit, realising they were in the alley where Sinstra had brought them from. They walked back to the house in a comfortable silence.

All too soon, They were back at the front door of number 4, Privet Drive. Petunia answered the door.

“Oh, It's you. Get in, then. We can get dinner started soon.” 'We' of course meant 'Harry'.

As Harry slipped inside, he sent a bright, toothy grin at Sinistra, “Thank you! For _everything!”_

He saw understanding in her eyes then the door slammed shut.

“Go to your room, get that stuff out of sight before Vernon sees it. _No_ ,” Petunia spat as Harry made his way to his cupboard. “You've got Dudley's second room now. I hope you know how much effort went into making that room yours”.

Entering the room made Harry thing that not much effort at all. The single bed was obviously almost broken and the then duvet was stained. A rickety old desk with half a leg missing was shoved in the corner with a just as bad looking chair, and a wardrobe stood next to the door, one of the hinges broken.

But as he started sorting through his new things, _that belonged to him,_ and no one else, and discovering the extra clothes. Harry couldn't be happier.

 


End file.
